


(never) too late

by deducingontheroof



Series: sf18 bonus round fills [22]
Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Angst, Depression, Gen, Self-Loathing, Suicidal Thoughts, v brief tagging just in case
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-29
Updated: 2018-08-29
Packaged: 2019-07-04 07:08:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15836286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deducingontheroof/pseuds/deducingontheroof
Summary: Yeah, it’s funny.It’s hilarious, even.Daiki’s just too fucking good.And he hates himself for it.





	(never) too late

Daiki finds it funny, in all honesty.

He lets his head fall against the warm concrete, closing his eyes as the sun beats down on him.

Today is not a good day for him. But then, he doesn’t have many good days anymore.

He had a purpose, once. A reason for living. He had something he genuinely enjoyed, that made him feel like he was worth something.

Yeah, it’s funny. 

It’s hilarious, even.

Daiki’s just too fucking good.

And he hates himself for it.

Honestly, it’s frustrating. He worked so damn hard in junior high, and what was it for? What was the point of practicing endlessly, tirelessly, driving his body to the limit in order to improve?

What’s the point?

He’s already the best. No one can beat him. He knows that, with no doubts. He’s checked, and he’s searched. Hell, he even had Satsuki search, but it was just more wasted time.

The only one who can beat him is him.

He remembers a time where victory was fire in his veins, flames in his lungs. He remembers fighting with everything he has, clawing his way to a win, and loving every second of it.

But something changed.

_He_ changed.

He’s not the same as he was in junior high. He was so hopeful once, and now…

Now, he’s a waste of oxygen. He’s a misplaced stone in the river of life, interrupting the flow.

Without basketball, his life has no purpose. And he can’t bring himself to play basketball anymore. There’s no point.

Once, he loved basketball with every fiber of his being. He lived for the sweat, the struggle for breath, the squeak of sneakers on the court. He still lives for basketball, if he’s being honest.

But he hates basketball. He _hates_ it. 

He doesn’t go to practice anymore because the sight of the familiar ball is enough to make his stomach churn. He can’t stand the idea of actually touching the ball, of picking it up and playing like he used to.

It makes him sick.

He wishes that he could relive junior high, and make his choices all over again. Maybe, if he had the chance, he could hold himself back. He could slack off more, practice less… 

He just wants to play basketball again.

He wants to feel that _fire_ again. He wants his passion, his drive, his will to live back.

Sometimes he tries to blame his opponents. They didn’t practice enough, they aren’t good players, they give up too easily. The words come easily to him, but it’s infinitely harder to trick himself into believing them.

He knows that it’s not his opponents. No, they’re trying their best. They work hard. Against anyone else, they might even win, or at least make it a close match.

No, the problem is Daiki.

He’s always been the problem. He’s a fucking _monster_. It’s not exactly normal, to be as good as he is.

He hates it.

He doesn’t want an easy victory. He’s never wanted an easy victory.

He wants the anxiety, the determination, the pure exhilaration of a victory that isn’t certain. He wants to be ten points down with three minutes left on the clock. He wants the fear of a loss.

But he can’t lose. He just can’t.

And it’s killing him.

He used to be a passionate, driven person. He used to love every aspect of himself. He used to have a purpose, and he used to fucking _smile_.

He doesn’t smile anymore.

Why should he? He has no reason to smile. He spends every day wishing he was someone else, because he doesn’t recognize the lump of flesh he’s become.

When victory is assured, you have no reason to try. There’s no sweat, and breathing comes easily. You don’t need to dodge a steal or a screen because the opponents just stand there.

There’s nothing left to love about basketball.

Basketball was everything he had, and everything he was. Without basketball, he’s nothing.

There’s nothing left to love about basketball, so there’s nothing left to love about himself.

“Dai-chan!! Jeez, I’ve been looking all over for you!”

He doesn’t move as Satsuki finds him, settling down next to him. Why should he bother? There’s nothing for him to do, after all, except lie there. There’s nothing worth doing.

“You’re in your head again, aren’t you?” Satsuki said quietly, after a silence that could have lasted a minute or an hour.

He doesn’t respond, but he doesn’t really need to, either. She’s his closest friend. He doesn’t need to say anything to her, because she can read him like a fucking book.

Just another weakness to add to the list.

“You’ll find someone who’ll make you love basketball again, Dai-chan,” she murmurs. “I promise.”

He laughs darkly, finally speaking. “Don’t make a promise you can’t keep, Satsuki. I’m done with basketball.”

“You’re not. Aomine Daiki, you might have given up on yourself, but I haven’t given up on you,” she declares.

He doesn’t say anything to that.

He knows Satsuki’s not a liar, but he doesn’t believe her. Of course he doesn’t.

It’s too late for him. He’s fucked everything up.

He’s done with basketball, and he’s done with himself.

All he deserves is to stay here, head on the warm concrete with the sun beating down on him.

He doesn’t deserve to step onto the court again.

So he won’t. Not until he finds a reason to fight again.

He doubts that he’ll ever find one.

He doubts that he’ll ever find a reason to love himself again.

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr](https://charlie-albus.tumblr.com) | [dreamwidth](https://deducingontheroof.dreamwidth.org)


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